


Revelation of the Wicked

by Miko



Series: Wicked Truths [1]
Category: Star Ocean: Till the End of Time
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-24
Updated: 2012-06-24
Packaged: 2017-11-08 10:15:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/442104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miko/pseuds/Miko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cliff has known Albel for long enough now that he's pretty confident he understands the man. More or less. He's certainly good to have at your side in a fight, as long as you keep him from getting bored. They've both seen the inside of a dungeon cell or two; what's one more between friends?</p><p>There's just one little thing he never expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Revelation of the Wicked

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this story I think... four years ago now? And I've been sitting on it ever since, both because I wasn't entirely sure how well it would be received, and because it's meant to be the first in a five-part series. I've written the second fic and part of the third, but I honestly don't know when or if the series will ever be finished. On the other hand, four years later it's still pretty strong in my head, so that's a good sign.
> 
> I finally decided to post it because it's not doing anybody any good just sitting on my hard drive. I hope some people enjoy it! Maybe that will motivate me, lol.
> 
> Each story in this series does stand alone up to a point, but you definitely want to read them in order or they won't make much sense.

The tramp of hobnailed boots against cobblestones was loud enough to be heard even through the thick wooden walls between them and their pursuers. Cliff held his breath as the patrol passed, even though he knew they wouldn't be able to find them just by the sound of his breathing. Only when the sound had completely faded did he let out a sigh and glance at his companion. 

Albel leaned against the wall kitty-corner to him, arms crossed over his chest, looking grumpy. Grumpier than usual, anyway. When he saw that Cliff was looking at him, his scowl deepened. "Well, this is fun," he drawled, his voice dry.

"You said you wanted a challenge," Cliff reminded him cheerfully, refusing to give in to Albel's sour mood. Sure, they were cornered, outgunned, and totally outnumbered, but that was no reason to act like they'd just been force-fed a barrel of pickles. 

"No, I said I was bored," Albel retorted. " _You_ said I needed a challenge. At least in Airyglyph I was bored while fighting. Now I'm bored while _hiding_. Guess which is my preference?"

"Aw, come on. You were having enough fun when we were actually trashing the guards," Cliff said. "And once they stop looking for us quite so hard, we'll be able to get out of here and get the artefact off the planet." He patted the bundle of canvas that rested at his feet. It was heavier than it looked; the artefact inside was made of some sort of incredibly dense metal. He had no idea what it was or what it did, but he did know that it was far too advanced for a backwards planet like this one. 

"We stole their royal treasure, idiot," Albel said. "They're not going to stop looking for us. And if you hadn't noticed, we stand out a lot!"

"At least they're human types," Cliff replied, refusing to let Albel ruffle his feathers. "We'd stand out a lot more if they were fish or koalas or something." Albel gave him a strange look, probably wondering what a koala was, but he didn't ask so Cliff wasn't forced to explain.

He did have to admit that his companion had a point, however. They hadn't made any real effort to blend in with the locals; they were still wearing their own clothes and carrying their own weapons. This was supposed to have been a quick in-and-out mission, not an extended vacation among the natives. "Maybe if we change our appearance a little, we can slip out of the city and get back to the ship without them noticing," he suggested.

"We're rather distinctive," Albel said, flexing his gauntlet for emphasis. "I don't think they see many people with metal arms here, or even giant tattooed blond men."

"So those are the things we'll have to change," Cliff said, shrugging. "Like you said, they're looking for two strange-looking men. We'll have to give them something else."

Standing, he started exploring the shop they'd broken into, making sure to avoid crossing in front of the windows. They were lucky the place was empty at the moment, though that could change at any time. Dawn would come soon, and with it the people who worked here.

To their further luck, he discovered after a moment of scouting that it was a clothing store. There were men's and women's clothes in various stages of completion hanging off dressmaker's dummies all over the place. A few looked like they might even be big enough to fit him and Albel. "Hmm, this could work," he said, poking at a velvet tunic and matching breeches. "If we pass ourselves off as nobles, they might be too afraid to mess with us."

"Hmph. Anyone who mistakes you for a nobleman needs to have their eyes checked," Albel grumbled. "It still won't work. We might be able to hide you, but my arm and hair are too memorable."

"So take off the gauntlet and carry it," Cliff said. "And tuck your hair up under a hood or something." He grinned, fingering one of the fine gowns. It might just cost him his life to make the joke, but the look on Albel's face would be worth it. "We could always put you in one of these. They'd never recognize you, for sure."

He glanced back over his shoulder, and sure enough there was murder written large in Albel's furious red eyes. "You know I'm going to kill you just for making that suggestion," Albel said. The fact that his voice was completely calm made it all the more menacing.

"Yeah, yeah." Cliff shrugged that off, but now he was looking at his companion in a new light. It _had_ been a joke, but he actually hadn't been that far off the mark. Albel was as tall as Cliff was, but he was built slender for all that he was well-muscled. The people on this low-grav world were taller than human average; some of these dresses probably would fit the wiry swordsman. "Your hair is one of our biggest problems," Cliff pointed out thoughtfully. "If we want to pass ourselves off as locals, you'll have to either cut it off or pretend to be a woman. Near as I can tell, it's taboo for guys to have long hair here, or something."

Albel's scowl deepened and his hand flashed out to grip the end of his hair possessively. Cliff coughed to hide his amusement as that gesture confirmed something he'd always suspected - Albel was as vain as a cat, though he hid it well for the most part.

"You could wear long gloves to hide whatever it is you don't want anyone to see under that gauntlet," Cliff continued, ignoring Albel's increasing glower. "And they're looking for two men, not a man and a woman."

"If it's such a great idea, _you_ wear the dress," Albel growled.

"Sorry to say, but of the two of us I'm _not_ the one who'd be able to pass." Cliff glanced down at his own broad chest and bulging arms, and snorted. Unlike Albel, 'slender' and 'wiry' were not descriptions that had ever applied to him.

"Are you saying I'm girly, Fittir?" Albel's voice dropped even lower, into something that should more properly be called a snarl.

"Your word, not mine," Cliff countered. "What's the big deal? You know, on a lot of worlds your normal outfit would be considered a dress, anyway. I _would_ do it, if I thought I could pull it off. Two women would be an even better disguise."

Albel opened his mouth, clearly intending to say something scathing, but the approaching tramp of boots made them both freeze and go silent. When he was certain the patrol had passed once again, Cliff decided to pre-empt the other man. "You got a better idea?" he challenged.

"I do, actually. Go out there and just kill them all." Even in the dim light, Albel's wicked smirk was clearly visible.

"Outnumbered and outgunned, remember?" Cliff sighed and raked a hand through his hair. "We might as well go out there and surrender; it'd be the same end result. Us dead, and the artefact back where it doesn't belong."

"I'd rather be dead than in a dress," Albel said flatly. "At least my way we'd go down fighting."

"I'm more of the 'live to fight another day' philosophy, myself." Cliff considered his next words very carefully. They would either work, or get him run through. He figured it was about fifty-fifty odds. "What's the matter, Nox? Afraid your masculinity can't stand up to a couple of hours in a dress?"

Albel stiffened, and he went from glaring murder to glaring _bloody_ murder. Well, bloodier. His hand dropped to his hilt and Cliff felt the buzzing in the air as Albel activated one of his hidden runes. Cliff winced and braced himself to eat a Dragon Roar.

Yet another patrol went by, which may have been the only thing that saved Cliff's life. This one lingered, checking every door to see if any were open. Cliff scrambled to get his hand on the doorknob, just in time. He tightened his grip when the soldier tried to turn it, preventing it from moving.

"Locked tight," he heard the man outside say. Cliff didn't relax his hold until he heard the soldiers move away again.

"Damn, they're getting more persistent," he muttered, eyeing the dents his strong fingers had left in the iron knob. "I was hoping they'd get bored, instead." When he dared a look at Albel he found the other man had deactivated his rune, and there was resignation mixed with the outrage in his expression.

" _Fine_ ," Albel hissed. "The moment we are off this pox-rotted planet, you die, understand?"

Cliff raised his hands in a placating gesture and said nothing, not wanting to push his luck any further. Albel glared at him for a moment longer before huffing and rising from his crouch. He stalked over to a fancy-looking silk gown that was probably big enough to fit him. His hair swished behind him in a way that reminded Cliff of a cat lashing its tails.

With a silent sigh of relief, Cliff headed for a matching suit of men's clothes. It would be a tight fit - men here didn't get as muscled as the average Klausian. But he would manage.

"Wrong outfit," Albel informed him. With a smirk, he pointed to what was clearly a servant's livery.

"Albel..." Cliff eyed the man, wondering how insistent he was going to be on this.

Very, apparently. "One, the soldiers probably know every lord in this area by face, if not by name," Albel said, ticking off the points on his fingers. "Two, a noblewoman without a servant as an escort will be as suspicious as the two of us just walking down the street. Three, you're going to be carrying my sword so I can get to it quickly if I need it, and it's too plain and well-used to belong to anyone but a real fighter." Albel crossed his arms over his chest and stared Cliff down, daring him to argue.

For a moment Cliff debated, but in the end he sighed and gave in. This world had about the same sort of feudal level society as Airyglyph, which was a large part of why he'd brought the man along in the first place. He couldn't now start arguing with his expert, especially if he didn't want Albel to decide he wasn't going to cooperate after all.

Though the way Albel's smirk widened when Cliff reached for the livery was not reassuring.

The swordsman went off to change in a little curtained alcove clearly meant for that purpose. Cliff stripped down right where he was, practicality winning out over what little modesty he possessed. He couldn't blame Albel for wanting the privacy, though. This had to be embarrassing as all hell.

"We'll have to figure out some way to get your hair up," Cliff said, thinking out loud more than actually talking to Albel. "Maybe a hooded cloak or something will hide how bad it's gonna look." _He_ certainly had no idea what to do with hair longer than a couple of inches, and while Albel presumably was capable of dealing with his own hair, the sort of fancy updo that went with a dress like that one would be far beyond the abilities of a couple of bachelor warriors like them.

"I'll manage," Albel snapped. His words were somewhat muffled by the rustle of cloth.

Cliff finished first, of course. He prowled the room nervously, unable to sit still. Twice more he heard patrols go by outside. He found a lady's long cloak for his trouble, at least. When he realized there had been no further sounds from the change room in some time, Cliff halted. "Hey, you okay in there? You didn't strangle yourself or something, did you?"

"I..." Albel swallowed audibly, and his voice was unusually soft. "I can't do this."

Cliff's eyebrow rose towards his hair. If it had been anyone else, Cliff would have said the other man sounded uncertain, even shy. But the thought of Albel and 'shy' in the same sentence was so ridiculous Cliff was forced to doubt his own ears. "C'mon, it's probably not as bad as you think it is. Lemme see."

"No!"

The only word Cliff could find to describe Albel's tone this time was 'panicked'. Cliff's other eyebrow rose to join the first, and he reached for the curtain to yank it aside before Albel could think to grab it. 

What he saw left him stunned. He was looking at a girl. A pretty, feminine girl. The wide-eyed, _vulnerable_ expression on Albel's face contributed to the illusion, never mind the fury in his eyes at Cliff's audacity. For the first time it occurred to Cliff to wonder just how old Albel actually was. Like this, he looked hardly any older than Fayt.

Albel had found something to stuff into the front of the dress to give him a small but convincing bosom. He'd even managed to do something half decent with his hair, partially unwrapping the long tails and using the wrap to bind it in loops up on his head. Even without makeup, even _knowing_ he was looking at a guy, Cliff was almost fooled.

Then Albel opened his mouth, and the illusion was ruined. "Laugh and I'll kill you," the swordsman growled, hands clenched in fists at his sides.

"You were gonna kill me anyway just for suggesting it," Cliff reminded him absently. He couldn't quite muster the focus to think coherently while confronted by the shocking impossibility of Albel in drag. Laughter definitely wasn't his first response; his mind was too occupied by the warring thoughts of ' _fuck_ he looks hot like that!' and 'he is going to _kill_ me if he realizes what I'm thinking'.

"I'll. Make it. _Hurt_ more," Albel ground out, eyes flashing with rage.

Clearing his throat, Cliff forced himself to look away at last. "Well, you definitely won't have any trouble passing. Here." He thrust the heavy cloak he'd found at Albel, still without looking at him.

To his surprise Albel fumbled the cloak and dropped it with a curse. "Asshole," Albel snarled, and shoved the gauntlet and sword he'd been holding at Cliff. Cliff took them without thinking, and only then did Albel lean down and grab the cloak with his right hand.

Cliff was even more bewildered when Albel struggled to wrap the fabric around himself one-handed. Belatedly he realized that Albel's left hand wasn't fisted at all. The fingers were crooked into claws, like Albel couldn't force them to relax. Silk gloves that came halfway to the shoulders hid the muscles in Albel's arms along with whatever injury - Cliff _assumed_ it was an injury - had caused the damage.

"But this gauntlet is three times as heavy as that cloak," Cliff blurted out. "I've even seen you use your sword left-handed a few times."

"The gauntlet is also etched all over the inside with runes, fool," Albel muttered, glaring at him. "Did you think I wore it because it looked pretty? The runes make it behave like part of my body. My left arm is fucking useless without it. _Now_ do you understand?"

Cliff did, and he felt bad about his earlier teasing. For someone like Albel who lived and died by the sword, being forced to expose a weakness that great was like asking him to hold a knife to his own throat. No wonder he'd said he would rather die. He was all but helpless like this.

Cliff opened his mouth to say something stupid, like, 'Don't worry, I'll protect you'. Thankfully his self-preservation instinct kicked in at the last moment, reminding him that the person standing in front of him was _not_ a fragile woman who would welcome the shelter offered by a big, strong man. Albel was more likely to gut him, injured hand or not.

Instead he cleared his throat again, and changed tactics. "Well, the sooner we go, the sooner we can get the hell out of here and you can get changed. Let's hightail it."

He'd half expected another death threat of some kind, but Albel just stormed past him to the door. He even _moved_ like a girl, hips swaying slightly as he took dainty little steps. Probably a combination of the skirts and whatever shoes he'd found to wear, Cliff decided. He had to be in high-heeled shoes, because he was suddenly a good inch and a half taller than Cliff.

He shoved Albel's clothes and gauntlet into the bundle he'd made with his own gear, and hung Albel's sword from his belt. The blade was a too small and light for someone as big as Cliff to use properly, but hopefully nobody would get close enough to notice the discrepancy.

They paused to listen and make sure there were no soldiers outside, then headed into the dark streets. A chilly wind was blowing, and Cliff shivered. Klausians had a higher tolerance for temperature extremes than most human types, but that didn't mean he liked the cold. Albel at least had his heavy cape, and a scarf wrapped around his throat presumably to hide the metal collar and chain he usually wore there. Cliff hadn't seen any sign of it in the gear Albel had handed him, and it didn't look like the sort of thing that was designed to come off.

They strolled along like they didn't have a care in the world. Cliff walked a half step behind and to one side of Albel like a good servant should. He knew that much, at least. Inwardly he marvelled at the way Albel managed to walk in heels over the slick cobblestones without so much as wobbling. Cliff didn't think he'd have been able to do the same, were their positions reversed.

A patrol passed by them once and didn't so much as look twice at them. Cliff breathed a quiet sigh of relief. They might yet make it out of this mess with their hides intact. What Albel would do to him when they were safely back aboard the ship was another matter, of course. Cliff decided he would take that wormhole when he came to it, and not a moment before.

"Fittir." Albel's voice was low, barely loud enough to carry as far as Cliff. He jerked his head, and Cliff saw an open carriage hitched to what passed for a horse on this world. It was hitched in front of a restaurant or entertainment house of some kind, waiting for its owners to emerge.

"Think you can handle driving that?" Albel asked. "Nobody's going to believe a noblewoman and servant _walking_ out into the country, especially at this hour."

"I can pilot a spaceship. I'll figure out how to manage a cart," Cliff replied with a great deal more confidence than he actually felt. He approached the beast with caution, keeping a wary eye out for the return of the real owners. It stamped its six hooves restlessly, but sniffed politely at his hand when he offered it.

"Easy there, big fella," Cliff murmured to it. He eyed the reins and harness, and was relieved to see they were pretty similar to the rigs he'd seen on Elicoor. Some things were just universal, apparently. He'd seen enough people driving there that he was reasonably certain he could handle this.

He turned to offer Albel a hand into the carriage, figuring that if even a real woman normally needed help, a guy unused to dealing with skirts would have even more trouble. Instead he found Albel just settling himself into the seat, glaring at him from under the hood. Cliff was glad he hadn't gotten as far as extending his hand. With the mood Albel was in, he'd probably have bitten it off.

"Let's go," Cliff declared, hauling himself up into the driver's seat and gathering up the reins. A little flick got the beast moving easily, and they were off.

Luck remained with them; no shouts of 'thief!' followed them down the street, and soon they were out of sight. They made their way through the city streets, the carriage bouncing over the cobbles and occasionally following a meandering path along the road as Cliff fought with the reins. The whole time Albel sat stiff and silent beside him, his head lowered enough that the hood hid his face. The only indication Cliff had of the other man's mood was the fist clenched in the folds of Albel's skirt.

As they approached the great gate that led out of the city, Cliff could hear the sound of many guards clattering about on the walls and in front of the guardhouse. They'd increased security significantly since he and Albel had entered that morning. Well, no surprise there. Once they got past this, though, it was a straight run two miles to the woods where they'd hidden the ship, and they'd be home free.

"Better let me do the talking. You might _look_ half decent as a girl, but one word from you and they'll have us drawn and quartered," Cliff dared to tease his companion.

"Do I look like I'm as much of an idiot as you are?" Albel's right hand tightened further, and he ducked his head to put his face in even deeper shadow. Cliff could have told him he didn't need to worry about the soldiers seeing his face and guessing he was a guy, but then again Cliff liked his vital organs right where they were. He decided discretion was definitely the better part of valour in this case.

"Halt!" The guards had seen them approaching, and stepped out to block their way. The one with the most gold braid on his uniform stepped towards them, eyeing them suspiciously. "Bit late for a jaunt into the country, isn't it?"

Thankfully Cliff had been a wanted man long enough that he'd learned to think fast on his feet. "My mistress has been ill, and the doctor said she should spend some time resting in the country," he replied smoothly, even managing to sound a little concerned. "He was quite insistent that she go as quickly as possible, for the sake of her health." Since Albel couldn't see him with the hood that far down, Cliff dared a significant glance at the 'woman's' stomach, then raised a knowing eyebrow at the guard.

The man snorted and rolled his eyes, his expression saying a great deal about the difficulties of dealing with women in a 'delicate condition'. At least his suspicion seemed to have been replaced by sympathy. "We're not supposed to be allowing anyone in or out of the city right now," he said. "May I have your name, my lady? I'll speak to my captain, see if he'll permit an exception."

Albel's shoulders went stiff, and Cliff swore silently. "Uh, she's _really_ not feeling well," he said quickly. "If she speaks, she'll probably be ill again." Hell, what name should he give them? He had no idea who the important families around here might be.

The guard frowned, and stepped closer to peer up under Albel's hood. Worse, he put a hand on Albel's arm, as if trying to draw 'her' attention. "Your name, my lady?" he insisted. When Cliff opened his mouth to answer, the guard gave him a warning look. "I'll hear it from her, if you please."

Cliff's hand twitched, itching for his weighted gloves, but if he went for a weapon now the whole guard contingent would come down on their heads. Then again, the same thing would happen when Albel gutted the man for the presumption of touching him, which he was probably about to do. And even if by some miracle the hot-head restrained his temper for once, the moment he spoke...

"I am Lady Albelene, daughter of Sir Glou of Kirlsa," Albel said, his voice soft and dangerous. It was higher and smoother than normal, a very good imitation of the sort of sultry deep voice some women had. If Cliff had heard it without _knowing_ who spoke, he'd have sworn it was a real woman. "You will remove your hand from my arm, or I will... have it removed from yours." The brief hesitation told Cliff his companion had almost forgotten that a lady wouldn't make a threat like that directly. "Is that clear enough for you, sergeant?"

The man had a good sense of self-preservation; he lifted his hand and stepped back immediately, probably before he even consciously registered the threat. Cliff didn't need to imagine what sort of deadly expression was showing in Albel's eyes; he'd been on the wrong side of it plenty of times himself.

"Of course, my lady," the man said hastily. "I'll just inform the watch captain. It will only take a moment." He touched the brim of his hat. Albel inclined his head ever so slightly, acknowledging the abbreviated bow. He might as easily have claimed to be a queen, from the way he carried himself. 

"If I say 'great job', you're going to take my head off, aren't you?" Cliff murmured as the man turned and hurried towards the guardhouse beside the gate.

" _Yes_." Albel glared at him sidelong, all but vibrating with fury.

"So I won't say it," Cliff concluded, the corner of his mouth twitching despite their grim situation. "Just one problem. The captain's never gonna have heard of your father."

"I know."

"Can you fight one-handed?" Cliff shifted slightly on the seat, so that Albel would be able to reach across him and draw the sword more easily. He got a snort and a scathing look for the question, and chuckled in spite of himself. "Okay, that was a stupid question."

"I can't use my runes without both hands," Albel replied grudgingly. His eyes were tracking the movements of several of the guards walking the walls.

A small commotion near the guardhouse drew Cliff's attention, and he readied himself. "Well, I'd put money on you against any ten regular soldiers any day, handicap or not," he said cheerfully. "I guess we'll find out the answer the hard way."

" _Good_. I'm sick of sitting here like a lump." 

They didn't even need to look at each other to coordinate. On the same breath they both exploded into motion, Albel snatching his sword from the sheath a split second before Cliff launched himself from the carriage at the two nearest guards. They caught the soldiers completely off guard, and Cliff was easily able to take care of his first cluster. He heard the sound of metal on metal from Albel's side as he paused briefly to draw on his fighting gloves, and grinned to himself. Sure enough, a moment later he heard screaming, and it wasn't Albel's voice.

The solid gate was open, the passage barred only by people and a sturdy-looking wooden railing at about Cliff's waist height. He headed straight for it, ploughing his way through the guards, knowing Albel would be right behind him. The sound of a familiar grunt of pain made Cliff glance back, and he swore under his breath as he saw Albel had taken a fairly serious wound to his left shoulder. The full skirts were hampering him, tangling around his legs as he tried to lunge and dodge. 

"Don't stop, maggot," Albel snapped at him when he saw Cliff looking. "I'm fine!"

That was clearly a lie, but on the other hand the best thing Cliff could possibly do for Albel was get him back to the ship, where the doctors could heal in it moments. Reaching the barrier, he whirled and slammed into it with a vicious jump kick, knowing there was no way Albel would be able to hurdle it in that dress. It went to splinters beneath his foot with a satisfying crunch. 

Then he was through, and all the guards were behind him. On such a light grav world he and Albel would easily be able to outrun the guards, at least once Albel hiked up his skirts. The mental image of that was so funny Cliff had to snicker, and he glanced back again so he could catch a glimpse of it.

To his dismay he saw Albel surrounded by a big knot of guards, battling furiously instead of running. He hadn't managed to follow Cliff through the barrier, and with so many people crowding him the handicap of his left arm was starting to make a telling difference. Albel fought with all the ferocity of the demon some on Elicoor had called him, teeth gritted and eyes flashing with battle fever, but he was losing ground.

Swearing, Cliff turned and waded right back into the fight, but he wasn't fast enough. As he threw punches and kicks with no care for the bones he was shattering, he could see Albel was faltering. The swordsman had taken another bad wound to his right forearm, and it was bleeding freely enough that Albel's grip was slipping on his hilt. Without being able to use his left arm to brace the sword or his runes to clear him some space, Albel didn't have a chance.

Cliff roared and smashed the heads of the two men closest to him together, trying to get through to put himself at Albel's back. He was too late. Someone managed to grab Albel by his bad arm, twisting it up behind the swordsman's back. Albel snarled and kicked at his opponent, but his foot got tangled in the thick skirt and he only succeeded in throwing himself off balance. He went down hard, hitting the cobblestones with a painful-sounding impact.

Immediately two more guards threw themselves on top of him, pinning his thrashing arm and legs. Albel snarled and cursed them all, refusing to stop struggling even though they had him thoroughly trapped.

"You! Throw down your weapons and surrender, or we'll kill your friend. We only _need_ one of you alive for questioning." A man with a great deal more gold braid than the sergeant had stepped out of the guardhouse and watched the fight from a safe distance. The sword he held in his hands was fancy enough to be ornamental, but Cliff could see the signs of regular use on the blade. The captain walked forward and rested the tip of the sword against Albel's throat, just above the metal collar that had been exposed when the scarf slipped.

Albel went very still, only the rage in his eyes and the tension in his muscles showing how much effort that false calm cost him. Cliff's shoulders slumped as he slowly raised his hands, unwilling to keep fighting at the expense of Albel's life.

More soldiers swarmed over him, taking his weapons and the pack that held their gear and the artefact. They tied Cliff's wrists behind his back with extra knots, obviously having noted the strength he'd shown in breaking through the barrier. They might as well have saved themselves the trouble. Even doubled, the rawhide ties they used would snap the instant Cliff exerted real pressure on them.

Unfortunately he couldn't do that right now without getting Albel killed. They were doing an even more thorough job of trussing up the swordsman. Glancing around at the gutted and viciously mauled dead bodies on the ground, Cliff couldn't blame them. He knew which of the two of them _he_ would be putting the most restraints on. Cliff was deadly with his fists, but Albel was just plain cruel.

They were marched off back the way they had come, towards the castle. As the adrenalin of the fight wore off Cliff began to feel the pain of his own wounds. The acid throb helped distract him from the miserable sense of failure that weighed him down. He wasn't too worried about getting free eventually, and this was hardly the first time he'd been tortured when captured. He was willing to bet the same was true of Albel. But stealing that artefact a second time was going to be a stone bitch. They might need to admit defeat and go back for reinforcements.

Assuming 'defeat' was actually a word in Albel's vocabulary. On reflection, Cliff rather doubted it.

At the castle they were led down a narrow, winding set of stairs into an area that reeked of blood, urine, and fear. Cliff had been in enough dungeons to recognize the scent - in fact, the last one he'd visited had been in Airyglyph. He saw Albel grimace and snarl, probably reminded of his own recent stay in his kingdom's dungeon. 

Another man waited for them at the bottom of the stairs. This one wore the fine tunic, shirt, and hose of a lord, and no military insignia. But the men leading the captives stopped and saluted him smartly, and didn't drop their hands until he nodded in acknowledgement.

"Good work, men," the lord said. "There will be a commendation for you for capturing these felons, captain. You may leave them with my people and return to your posts." More men came forward to take charge of Albel and Cliff. The newcomers were dressed in dark leather - clothes that would stand up to a lot of wear, and wouldn't show bloodstains easily. The royal torturers, without a doubt.

The lord looked Cliff and Albel over, his face expressionless. "No, there's no point in simply questioning you first, is there?" he asked, as casual as if they spoke of the weather over tea. "Anything you tell me would be a lie. You're professionals, I can see that. We'll jump right into the advanced questioning, shall we? Would one of you like to volunteer to be first?"

"Do your worst, maggot." Albel spat on the man's face, looking half mad with fury. "You don't impress me."

The lord smiled, and Cliff felt a chill run down his spine. That smile was not sane, on a level of magnitude above Albel's own wicked smirk. This was a man who knew exactly how to cause pain, and who took great pleasure in doing so. "As you wish, my dear. String them up together, and make certain you use metal restraints."

Cliff swore under his breath. Metal restraints would be more difficult to break free of than leather ties. Not impossible, necessarily, but it would take more time. Time the guards could spend killing him at their leisure, if they noticed what he was up to. Damn it, they were probably going to have to go through at least one round of questioning, until the torturers left them to reflect and recover for a while and they had a few moments out from under watchful eyes.

"You may amuse yourselves as you like once they are restrained. I will be along shortly," the lord said. "Be certain they are still capable of answering questions when I return."

Albel snarled and started to struggle again, hard enough that the men holding him had to pick him up off the floor to carry him out of the room. Cliff got a brief glimpse of the other man's white face and tight lips, and for perhaps the first time ever he saw a trace of fear in Albel's eyes. Cliff was more than a little afraid himself. Those men were not likely to be pleased when they discovered that the woman they intended to gang rape was in fact a man. If they decided to take out their frustration on Albel, it wouldn't be pretty.

Still Cliff didn't break his bonds as they led him after Albel. There were too many of the guards around, and they were all on alert for a breakout attempt. The time to fight would come later, when they believed Albel and Cliff were cowed and broken.

The guards weren't particularly careful as they dragged their captives into the torture chamber. Cliff picked up several nasty bruises, and he heard at least one grunt of pain from Albel. He also heard a few pained sounds from the guards, and Cliff grinned despite himself. Albel was holding his own.

Cliff ended up chained atop a flat stone slab, manacled with his feet spread painfully wide and arms stretched up too high over his head. The chains on his hands looped around a ring set into the stone, and connected to Albel's hands. Other than that one tenuous point of contact, Cliff couldn't see or feel the other man at all. 

That worried him more than anything had yet. Most people would have positioned them so they could see each other, on the theory that one of them might break after watching the other under torture.

This man understood that nothing he did would be as unnerving as what would run through their imaginations, listening to each other scream without knowing exactly what was happening. Their torturer was a true sadist as well as a professional. Judging by the tension he could feel on Albel's chains, the other man was worried as well.

Or maybe he was just worried about the guards, Cliff remembered as he heard the sound of tearing cloth and lewd chuckling. Albel was growling with rage, the sound low and dangerous, but the guards didn't have any idea how concerned they should have been.

"Open your mouth, sweetheart," one of them said, his smirk obvious in his voice. "Or I'll knock your teeth in to open it myself."

"Can't wait long enough to rip her skirts off?" another joked. "I don't blame you. Why the hell do women wear so damn much..."

Someone shrieked, a sound of utter agony. "The bitch _bit_ me," the first guard howled, his voice higher than it had been before.

"Next time I'll bite it _off_ ," Albel snarled, twisting against the chains. He sounded hoarse, but his voice was higher than normal, as if he was still trying to convince them he was a girl. 

Then again, that might be the smartest idea. Cliff seemed to recall that many underdeveloped societies had extreme taboos against men having sex with other men. If they realized the 'pretty girl' they'd been lusting over was another male they might feel compelled to defend their manhood, but if Albel could scare them off without revealing the truth it might not end as badly.

"That's what you get for being overeager," the second guard laughed. "Just keep it away from her mouth."

"Or I could punch her teeth in after all, and watch her choke on them," the first said, still sounding pained. There was a heavy sound of flesh striking flesh, and Albel grunted again.

His jaw set, Cliff did his best to ignore what was happening behind him. There was nothing he could do to stop it while chained up like this, and Albel wouldn't appreciate his pity. Besides, none of the guards were paying attention to him, which meant this was a prime opportunity to work on his escape plan. Such as it was.

They'd made a mistake by chaining his hands together. That meant he could exert all the force of both arms in one place. Slowly, careful not to draw attention, Cliff flexed his arms and started pulling. It would take time for the metal to give way, but it _would_ give. Either a link in the chain would open, or the ring would pull out of the stone entirely. And the guards would be caught completely by surprise.

In the meantime, Albel was still getting the worst of it. His snarling was audible even over the ripping of fabric, and every so often the chains rattled as the guards struck Albel hard enough to rock his body.

"I'll teach you some respect, bitch," the first guard said. "You'll regret - _shit_!"

"Idiot. Your dick's not the only thing she can bite."

"Not bad, biting someone when they punch you," another laughed. "She's got guts, I'll give her that."

"She took a chunk out of my hand!" the first guard cried. Despite himself a snicker escaped Cliff, and he heard Albel snort, possibly in amusement.

"Don't you laugh at me, you bitch!" 

This time the blow sounded harder, and Cliff winced with sympathetic pain as he heard Albel's head bounce against the slab.

"Gentlemen."

All three of the guards froze, and when Cliff craned his neck he could just see the lord standing in the doorway. He was frowning, slapping his gloves against his other palm.

"I believe I mentioned wanting them to be capable of answering questions," the lord said, his tone deceptively mild. "Breaking her jaw would run counter to that, would it not?"

"M-my apologies, lord Kelcrag," the guard Albel had bitten stammered.

The fact that he didn't protest or try to make excuses told Cliff louder than words that these men were just as scared of their master as any torture victim could be. Another bad sign. At this rate, he was going to lose count.

Kelcrag stepped forward out of Cliff's line of sight. He could have tipped his head back, but it would weaken his pull on the chains. Besides, there was still the fact that Albel would likely kill him for witnessing the indignity of the other man being tortured. Cliff certainly wouldn't have wanted Albel watching him, if their positions had been reversed.

"Can you speak, my dear?" Kelcrag asked, sounding as concerned as an uncle worrying over his favourite niece. 

"Go fuck yourself," Albel rasped, the words a little mangled but easily understandable. "And take your dogs with you."

"Such spirit," Kelcrag said. "Excellent. Let's begin, shall we?"

The guards had backed off; Cliff could see one of them standing near the door, watching avidly. Albel tensed, which helped Cliff as it put more strain on the chains and ring. The sharp coppery scent of fresh blood began to creep into Cliff's awareness, over the stench of fear and old blood already in the room, but other than a few harshly indrawn breaths Albel didn't make a sound.

After a few minutes Kelcrag chuckled. "Determined to present a challenge, my dear? Surely you realize you're only giving me more incentive."

"Please." Albel's voice dripped with contempt and disdain. "My raw recruits could do better than this."

"Oh? A fellow enthusiast?" Kelcrag sounded delighted. "How lovely. I so rarely get the chance to show off my skills to someone capable of truly appreciating them. I shall have to do my best to impress you, then."

The scent of blood increased abruptly, and this time Albel grunted. He immediately followed it with a laugh, however. "Maybe I should give you some pointers. You seem to need them."

"Not necessary, I assure you. I'm merely getting warmed up. You're not afraid of blades in the least, are you?"

"If getting cut up bothered me, I'd have bigger problems than a half-rate torturer like you," Albel retorted. 

Cliff wasn't sure it was such a good idea to goad the man - after all, the longer he continued to try to get a reaction out of Albel by cutting him, the longer it would be before he found something that _did_ bother his victim. Before then Cliff might have managed to break free, and it wouldn't matter.

Then again, perhaps the angry taunting was Albel's way of defending himself. It wouldn't surprise Cliff, all things considered. If so, then for Albel to remain silent would be as good as admitting the man was getting to him. Cliff could understand that.

"Yes, so I see. Such lovely skin, a shame it's marred by so many scars. Let's try something different, then." Kelcrag moved a short distance away, then returned.

The sudden deluge of water pouring over the table caught Cliff by surprise. Some of it splashed onto Cliff, but not enough to do more than make him cough if he inhaled at the wrong moment.

Albel wasn't so lucky. The chains rattled as he reflexively tried to get out from under the flow. Cliff could hear him choking and sputtering, desperately trying to get air to breathe. It went on long enough that Cliff started to start to seriously worry that Kelcrag would miscalculate and kill the other man.

Finally the flow of water stopped, but only long enough for Albel to catch one or two gasping breaths. Then it started again. The pattern continued four more times, as Cliff cursed silently and pulled a little harder. He thought he could feel a tiny bit of slack, which meant he was getting somewhere, but not fast enough.

"Now," Kelcrag said during the next break, as Albel coughed and retched up the water in his lungs. "Why don't we begin with something simple. Who sent you?"

Cliff snorted. The guy had no idea who he was dealing with. Sure enough Albel started to laugh the moment he had the air to do so. "You're a hundred years too early to break me," Albel mocked Kelcrag.

"Stubborn, indeed," Kelcrag murmured, and the water started again.

This time when he stopped Albel sounded more than half drowned. Even so, before Kelcrag could ask him anything he gasped out, "You'll have to do better than that, fool. You're not even close."

"You truly have no fear of dying, do you?" Kelcrag said, clearly fascinated. Albel said nothing, but Cliff could imagine his glare. Kelcrag laughed. "It seems I shall have to dig harder to find the fear that will break you."

"I'm not afraid of anything, maggot."

"Everyone is afraid of something, my dear. Let me see, now." There was a long pause, and when he spoke again his voice was so silky it was almost slimy. "That's quite a nasty burn on your arm. I can't imagine an experience like that wouldn't leave a lasting impression. Shall we see how well you deal with fire instead of water?"

Albel went completely still. Kelcrag moved into Cliff's view again, putting on a heavy leather glove and reaching for one of several long metal rods that were heating in a forge set into the wall. When he withdrew one, the end glowed white with heat.

"If you've got a plan, Fittir, now's the time," Albel hissed, his voice high and tight. If Cliff hadn't known better, he'd have said the man sounded frantic.

"I'm working on it," Cliff muttered, pulling harder. His tendons and muscles strained, and he could feel the metal giving a little more, but still not enough.

"Work _faster_ ," Albel insisted. 

As Kelcrag passed by him, Cliff winced away from the heat of the rod. "Let me cauterize that for you before you bleed out, my dear," Kelcrag said, and then the stench of burning meat replaced the copper tang of blood as the most prominent scent in the room.

Albel did scream this time, writhing against the chains. The sound scaled rapidly up in pitch, until it became a true shriek of agony. Cliff would have laughed in the face of anyone who'd told him Albel was even capable of such a sound, but there was no denying he was hearing it now. 

When Kelcrag backed off, Albel's gasps sounded more like sobs, and he was shaking hard enough to rattle the chains. "That's better," Kelcrag fairly purred. "Now. Who sent you?"

"Go... to hell," Albel said, but his voice was nowhere near as firm as it had been before. He also sounded even more like a girl despite the hoarseness of his voice, which was bizarre. Cliff wondered if he was trying to get Kelcrag to have mercy on the 'helpless girl', but that didn't make any sense. Not only was he fairly certain Kelcrag didn't even understand the concept of mercy, but Cliff would have sworn that Albel would die before using a tactic like that. He was more the 'face your opponent head on and bash them into submission' type of person.

"As you wish," Kelcrag said, and Albel shrieked again as the scent of burning meat returned.

"Tell me," Kelcrag repeated, without lifting the rod this time. "Who sent you?"

"Fuck... you..." Albel ground out, then screamed once more.

Kelcrag returned to Cliff's sight, and picked up another rod from the fire. "That wound on your forearm looks rather serious," Kelcrag said, and the glitter of satisfaction and lust in his eyes as he approached made Cliff feel sick. "Of course, it would be a shame if cauterizing it caused you to lose the use of that arm as well."

"No," Albel moaned, and thrashed again. 

"Then tell me who sent you," Kelcrag insisted, implacable.

"No!" Albel shouted, and Cliff wasn't sure if it was a refusal to speak or a plea to stop the rod's descent.

He didn't wait to find out, because at that moment the chain binding his arms to the slab finally gave way under the strain he was putting on it. With a wild cry Cliff lunged up, twisting awkwardly at the waist to lash out at Kelcrag. The metal cuffs still around his wrists clanged against the rod, and the force of Cliff's blow drove it up into Kelcrag's own face.

Kelcrag screamed and dropped the rod, stumbling back and clutching at his face. The guards shouted in confusion, and belatedly scrambled for their weapons. They could have salvaged the situation if they'd gone for a crossbow or other ranged weapon. Cliff's feet were still trapped and his mobility was limited, and Albel was likely in no shape to fight. As Cliff had hoped, they were too stupid and startled to think that far ahead, and they simply charged at him with swords and clubs drawn.

Three swift punches laid them out flat, and Cliff grabbed the last one before he could fall, holding him just long enough to snatch the keys off his belt. A moment later and his feet were free, and he rolled off the slab in the direction Kelcrag had gone.

Their torturer did not appear to appreciate having the tables turned on him; he was huddled against the far wall, still clutching at his face. Cliff couldn't hold back a nasty smile when he saw the burn had taken out one of the man's eyes. Dismissing him as a non-threat for the moment, he turned to free Albel - and froze. 

Burned, bleeding, and more than half drowned, for once Albel's ever-present glare held as much fear as anger. His left arm, bare for the first time Cliff had ever seen, had been ravaged by scarring from massive third degree burns, and a new one oozed raw and painful looking at his shoulder. But none of that was what made Cliff feel like the world had turned sideways. The soaked rags that were all that remained of the top of the dress in no way hid the very definitely feminine body beneath.

Staring, pretty sure his jaw was hanging somewhere around his knees, Cliff scrambled to make sense of what he was seeing. He tried to remember if he'd ever seen Albel shirtless, and failed. The Glyphian had always been prickly about personal space, and more than willing to maul anyone who threatened to encroach on his wide boundaries.

"Don't just _stand_ there, maggot," Albel snapped. "Get me fucking loose!" His - her - no, _his_ , damn it, that was obviously what he wanted - voice cracked, revealing that his anger was a thin veneer over uncharacteristic vulnerability.

Even so, the sharp demand was enough to shake Cliff loose from his shock, and he hurried forward with the keys. He tried not to look at anything but the locks, but his gaze kept straying to his partner's high, firm breasts, bleeding freely from several deep cuts. A semi-hysterical part of Cliff noted that Kelcrag was right; Albel did have lovely skin, despite the scars.

 _Worry about impossibilities later, Fittir,_ he scolded himself. _You've got bigger problems right now._

The moment he was free Albel scrambled off the table, obviously desperate to get away. Cliff was afraid he would collapse entirely, but he managed to stand after only a brief wobble.

"Let's get our stuff and go, before someone comes in to check on us," Cliff said, striding around the table to meet up with Albel on the side near the door.

"Not yet," Albel snarled. He went the opposite way, eyes fixed on Kelcrag still huddled against the far wall.

Figuring Albel had more than earned a little revenge, Cliff took up a position that allowed him to watch the door and all three unconscious guards, and left the other man to it.

Despite the tattered dress and the indignity of his near-nudity, despite the bleeding cuts and the way his water-soaked hair straggled into his face and down his back, Albel still managed to look impressively menacing as he advanced on Kelcrag. Probably it had something to do with the murderous look in his eerie red eyes, the same look that had caused people on his own world to call him a demon.

Kelcrag made one attempt to scramble to his feet, aborted when Albel grabbed him by the throat with his good hand. Leaning in so their faces were only inches apart, Albel gave the lord his best wicked smirk. 

"I'm not going to kill you," he informed Kelcrag, somewhat to Cliff's surprise. "Not yet. Because when I do come for you, I intend to show you exactly how much you _don't_ know about torture." His eyes shone with something dangerously close to madness, and Cliff thought he heard a faint whimper from Kelcrag. "I'm going to keep you at my non-existent mercy for a long, long time before I allow you to die, maggot, and I don't have the luxury to do it now. So watch over your shoulder, because I _will_ have my reckoning eventually. It might be next week, or it might be next year - or it might be decades from now, when you're old and feeling relieved that I never followed through." He spat in Kelcrag's face. "Believe it."

Despite knowing that Albel would probably never return to this miserable planet again, even Cliff almost believed him. Kelcrag, who had no way of knowing that they weren't from this world, certainly did. For that matter, Albel was just crazy enough that Cliff wouldn't put it past him to find a way to get back here just so he could have his revenge.

Albel released the terrified man, and snatched Kelcrag's dagger from the sheath on his belt. Neatly and precisely, he struck the lord on the temple with the pommel, knocking him out cold.

" _Now_ we can go," Albel declared, standing with the knife still gripped tightly in his hand. He refused to acknowledge the way he was shaking like a leaf in the wind, and his vicious glare dared Cliff to comment on either his near-nudity or the shocking secret revealed by it.

Cliff wasn't nearly stupid - or suicidal - enough to take that dare. He merely nodded and waited for Albel to round the table before he opened the door to the hall.

There were no guards in sight, though light and raucous laughter spilled through a doorway near the stairs. From the sounds of the shouting, they were very drunk and attempting to divide up Cliff and Albel's belongings among them. Well, that explained where they were and why they hadn't come to investigate the commotion. 

Although on second thought, they were probably used to hearing the sounds of screaming and struggling, and wouldn't think twice about it.

They were therefore caught completely unaware when Cliff burst into the room with a kick that sent the nearest guard flying to crash into the far wall. His next kick overturned the table where they'd been dicing for the loot. Then Albel came in behind him and abandoned the dagger to snatch his own sword out of the pile, and the room dissolved into chaos.

When the dust settled a few minutes later, Cliff and Albel were the only ones left standing. Grinning, Cliff shook out his hands and started looking around for his gear. Albel homed straight in on his gauntlet, but when he leaned over to grab it from the floor his battered body finally gave out on him. He dropped the sword and barely caught himself with his good hand, ending up kneeling in a rapidly spreading pool of blood from one of the guards.

"Damn it," Cliff said, moving to help. A low growl was his only warning, and he barely managed to jump back out of the way as Albel snatched up his sword and lashed out. "What the hell?" he exclaimed. The blow would have taken his legs off at the knees if it had connected.

" _Don't_ touch me," Albel snapped. "I'm fine."

"Yeah, looks like it," Cliff muttered, watching as the swordsman attempted to stand and nearly fell over completely. "What's your issue?"

"Just don't touch me!" Albel's voice held a shrill note, and his shoulders were so tense Cliff was amazed the muscle hadn't snapped.

Then again, Albel had just been outed, tortured, and nearly raped - or maybe more than nearly. It had been the lack of shocked reaction from the guards that made Cliff think Albel had escaped the worst, but now he knew there was nothing for them to have been shocked about. Even Albel had to be feeling a little vulnerable after all that, and the fact that he was weakened, injured, and still couldn't use his left arm probably wasn't helping. Maybe Cliff ought to cut him a little slack.

Speaking of which... "Much as I'm sure you don't wanna hear this, you probably shouldn't put that on until that wound on your shoulder is taken care of," Cliff said as Albel finally managed to grab his gauntlet. The new burn was deep and it looked inflamed, and considering the septic conditions it would be a miracle if infection didn't set in. Cliff wasn't sure exactly how the gauntlet worked, but the edge of the metal would be digging straight into the worst part of the wound.

Albel stared at the jointed metal for a moment, clutching at it with a white-knuckled grip. Then he swore and tossed it at Cliff instead of putting it on. "Damage it, and I'll take it out of your skin," he growled.

"How stupid do you think I am? No, don't answer that," Cliff added when he saw Albel glance sideways at him and open his mouth. He already knew what the response would be.

It only took a moment to collect the rest of their gear. "Here," Cliff said, holding out his vest. "Put this on." Albel's glare only intensified, and Cliff sighed. "Look, you can't go out there like that, and if you can lift your arms high enough to get your own shirt on, I'll _eat_ the damned gauntlet. Just take it already." His vest zipped up the front, and the livery he still wore wasn't nearly as damaged as Albel's dress.

Hopefully the prickly bastard would calm down a little once he looked a bit less obviously like a girl.

With another growl Albel approached, eying him warily the whole time like he was expecting Cliff to try something the moment he was in reach. Cliff just stood there with his arm outstretched, muscles steady as a rock, and waited patiently until Albel snatched the vest out of his hand. Then he turned away, checking to make sure they hadn't missed anything and giving the other man a moment of probably much-needed privacy.

A wooden door at right angles to the hall caught his eyes, and he opened it to poke his head through for a quick peek. The desk with papers scattered over it told him it was probably Kelcrag's office, but what caught his interest was the large metal box with an elaborate lock on one corner. It _might_ just be where the bastard kept confidential papers or delicate equipment, but Cliff hadn't gotten this far in life by failing to be thorough. Three magic-backed punches dented the metal enough for him to be able to wedge his fingers beneath the lid, and then he pried at it until the hinges gave way. The lid then dangled from the lock, still intact.

"What the hell are you doing?"Albel demanded. "We don't have time to be playing around."

"Guess what I found," Cliff said happily. Nestled on top of the papers he'd expected was the very artefact that had caused them so much grief in the first place. "Finally, some compensation for a shitty day."

"Good," Albel said, coming to the doorway to get a look for himself. The vest hung loose on him since his shoulders weren't nearly as broad as Cliff's, but it covered the worst of the damage. Not to mention hiding the most obvious evidence of his true gender. He had his own boots and the rest of his own clothes, and his sword hung at its place on his hip. "Then we don't have to come back for it. Let's go already."

He seemed marginally happier to be out of the dress and clothed again, but he still vacated the doorway the moment Cliff stepped forward, and he waited for Cliff to enter the hall first so that he wouldn't be at Albel's back. 

Well, Cliff would have suggested that anyway, so he let it go without comment. Re-armed or not, Albel was definitely still handicapped. Cliff wanted to be the first one to run into trouble if there was any.

They made it out of the dungeon without raising the alarm, but the main gate was closed and the area was swarming with guards. "Damn, we'll never get past them," Cliff cursed softly.

"So we don't go through, we go over," Albel said, jerking his chin at the ramparts. "It's only two stories and there's no moat. This world is so light I could probably jump _up_ that high."

Cliff rather doubted that, especially considering how weakened Albel obviously was. For that matter he wasn't sure of the other man's ability to take the jump in either direction right now. But he bit his tongue on a concerned protest, because they didn't have a choice and Albel would kill him for even mentioning it.

"You jump first while I distract the guards, and I'll follow," he said instead, the closest thing to a compromise he thought Albel would accept. If he went first and Albel was stopped from following, Cliff would have a damned tough time getting back in to rescue him.

"Fine. If you get caught, I'm not coming back for you," Albel said, an eerie counterpoint to Cliff's own thoughts. The swordsman was obviously well aware that he was being coddled, and resented it while at the same time bowing to the necessity of it.

Cliff felt horribly exposed as he charged up the stairs, but the guards weren't expecting an assault from _inside_. They didn't realize anything was wrong until Cliff was already on the ramparts, and by then it was too late. He slammed into the first guard like a charging bull, and felt the satisfying crunch of breaking bones beneath his fist.

More guards were running along the walls towards them, and someone was ringing the alarm, but only the nearest would reach them before they could jump. Cliff set himself to defend as Albel hauled himself up and over the wall. A double punch and a spinning sidekick took care of the new guards, and then Cliff turned and leapt over the crenellated wall as well.

It looked like Albel had hit the ground hard. He was struggling to get back to his feet, and the cut on his arm was bleeding again. Cliff landed beside him and rolled, coming up on his feet with an ease that made Albel snarl at him.

"Well, it's your own damn fault for not letting me help you," Cliff told him unrepentantly. He didn't offer a hand up, but he did move so he was between Albel and the wall while the other man recovered. Sure enough some bright penny among the guards had thought to grab a crossbow, and Cliff was just in time to block the short hail of bolts aimed at them.

"Are you going to keep playing all day, or are you coming along?" Albel asked, his voice strained but doing his best to sound normal.

"Right behind you," Cliff said, though he waited to make sure Albel was moving and deflected the next wave of arrows while he was at it. It only took him a few quick strides to catch up, but he kept his pace to Albel's after that. 

Behind them Cliff could hear the guards shouting and the huge gate beginning to open. He grinned and shook his head. By the time they managed to open the gate and get organized, he and Albel would be long gone.

Assuming Albel made it more than twenty feet, he amended the thought as he saw the other man stumble. Swearing, Cliff moved closer, and the next time Albel staggered he caught the other man by the sword arm, making it just a little harder for Albel to reflexively run him through.

"I said, don't touch me," Albel snarled, and tried to wrench his arm free. Cliff tightened his grip, though he did his best not to aggravate the injuries more than he had to. "Let me go!" Albel sounded about three seconds from going berserk.

"Either you let me help you, or we're both gonna be enjoying their warm hospitality again," Cliff said grimly. "And this time they'll use stronger chains. Up to you."

Of course, he could have just left Albel and made his own escape, easily. There would even be some sense to that, as it would give him the chance to break Albel out later.

But Cliff wasn't the sort of person who would leave an injured comrade behind, no matter how much sense it made. Besides, he wasn't sure how much of Albel would be left to rescue, after a longer visit with Kelcrag.

They were out of sight of the gates, but Cliff heard the pounding of hooves over the cobblestones. The guards were emerging, and they needed to move _now_ if they were to have any hope of getting away.

Albel yanked against his grip again, and for a dismaying moment Cliff thought the other man had decided recapture was preferable to accepting help. "That's my sword arm, fool," Albel snapped when Cliff still didn't let go.

"Right, sorry," Cliff said, relieved beyond words. He quickly switched sides, slinging Albel's burned arm over his shoulder and supporting him around the waist. The position undoubtedly put nasty strain on the wound on his shoulder, but Albel only gritted his teeth and kept moving.

They made better time that way, and managed to evade the soldiers searching for them. This time Cliff wanted to choose a hiding spot with a little more care, since they'd likely be stuck in it until Albel was well enough for them to get back to the shuttle. Unfortunately nothing immediately jumped out at him as the perfect place to hole up.

"Over there," Albel grunted after a few minutes, gesturing at an inn.

"I don't think we can just buy a room and hope to go unnoticed," Cliff told him, a little incredulous. Was the man feverish? Or just out of his mind.

"Not the _inn_. The stable," Albel growled. "That place isn't prosperous enough to have stableboys sleeping in the loft all the time, so we should be able to hide there." 

Since that kind of knowledge was why he brought Albel along on jobs like this, Cliff nodded and headed in the indicated direction. Sure enough there was a small stable behind the main building, unguarded and unattended save by the horses themselves.

Inside several of the six-legged beasts shifted and whuffled, but thankfully none of them kicked up a fuss at the scent of two bloody strangers. The moment they were inside Albel jerked free of him, and this time Cliff let him go. He went searching for the ladder to the loft as Albel leaned against the wall and caught his breath. When he found it, Cliff sighed. Just their damned luck. It was a simple rope ladder, and he really doubted Albel would be able to climb it on his own. "Or we could just use an empty stall," he said, turning away.

"There aren't any," Albel said, pushing past him. "There's nothing wrong with my legs. Just give me a hand up."

Grateful he wasn't going to continue to refuse all help, Cliff nodded and linked his hands together for Albel to use as a step. Between the two of them they managed to get Albel up into the loft, and then Cliff tossed their gear up and followed.

He wasn't surprised to see that Albel had settled on the far side of the loft, sword still naked and propped up next to him. He seemed to be trying to staunch the flow of blood from the deep cut on his forearm, but couldn't get enough pressure with his burned hand.

"Take one step closer, and I'll rip your balls off and feed them to you," he rasped when he saw Cliff looking his way.

Cliff made an exasperated noise. "You're injured, idiot."

"Won't stop me," Albel insisted.

"I don't doubt it," Cliff retorted. "Would you give it a rest, already? What the hell is your problem? I'm on _your_ side, remember?" If anything that only made Albel glare harder. "Fine, don't blame me if you lose that arm completely." Cliff looked significantly at the raw and oozing burns on Albel's shoulder, and the still-bleeding wound on his forearm. "You might lose both arms, actually. But hey, it's your call."

He saw his words hit home hard, as Albel looked down at the wound and clenched his jaw. Handicapped as he already was, the thought of losing his other arm must be terrifying. Cliff wasn't entirely clear on how the magic in the gauntlet worked, so he wasn't sure if it would even function if the arm had to be amputated. Albel might well come out of this completely helpless, assuming he survived at all. At least, if he kept refusing to let Cliff help.

"They're infected anyway," Albel finally muttered, not meeting his eyes. "Binding them isn't going to make much difference."

"It'll keep you from bleeding out," Cliff said, bending to rummage in his pack. The guards had dumped everything out and ruined several high-tech items, probably trying to figure out what they were. Thankfully they didn't seem to have been able to decipher the catch on the small kit he kept his most vital supplies in.

"So I'll die slower," Albel snapped. "Even if I survive, it could be a month or more before I can fight again. We'll be caught long before that."

Cliff clucked his tongue. "You're thinking it terms of your world's medicine, not mine."

"We don't even have access to _this_ world's medicine, fool."

"That's what you think," Cliff said, pulling a sterilized syringe out of its package. Having a basic kit with him at all times was a lesson he'd learned after crashing on Elicoor with Fayt. "Gimme your hand."

"Why?" The suspicion in Albel's voice was so thick Cliff could practically taste it.

"Because I said so, twit. Or do you want that arm to rot off after all?" Cliff approached to within easy reach, hoping he wasn't about to get run through, and knelt with one hand out. After a long moment Albel grudgingly offered his good hand.

Cliff gripped it tightly enough to stop the other man from pulling away. Albel's hand was callused but half the size of Cliff's, the wiry tendons stretched over much smaller bones. Holding it, Cliff wondered how the _hell_ he could possibly have missed the fact that Albel was female. Then again, he was still seriously questioning his sanity for believing it, and never mind what he'd seen. Maybe _he_ was the one suffering from wound rot.

Dragging his mind back to the task at hand, Cliff deftly applied the hypo. Sure enough the moment the needle pierced the skin Albel hissed and tried to yank his hand back, but Cliff's grip stopped him from moving. Cliff was grateful the idiot only had the one good hand, because otherwise he'd probably have given Cliff a puncture wound of his own, one that was considerably larger than that left by the tiny needle.

"What the hell was that?" Albel demanded. When Cliff did let him go he snatched his arm back and clutched it to his chest, staring at it like he expected it to drop off.

"All-purpose antibiotic," Cliff told him, grabbing a roll of bandage and starting to work carefully binding the burn on Albel's shoulder. "A fairly powerful one. Given that you've probably got no built-up tolerance at all, I'd imagine you'll be fine by morning."

There was a long pause, as Albel sat and let Cliff wrap the worst of his wounds. Cliff made no attempt to deal with the smaller cuts on the other man's chest - that would be suicidal, and anyway none of them had looked so bad that they would kill him without being tended to. If Albel really wanted those ones dealt with, he could do it himself.

"You're serious," Albel finally said, sounding like he was torn between disbelief and awe. "By morning."

"Well, more or less," Cliff admitted, moving back to dump the supplies back in his pack. Once he was done he threw himself down in a nearby haystack. With his arms behind his head for a pillow and the thick fabric of the livery cushioning him from the prickly straw, it certainly wasn't the worst bed he'd ever had. "It won't make the wounds themselves vanish, but it'll get rid of the infection and keep 'em from going septic again. We'll deal with the rest once we get back on the ship. You're welcome," he added, knowing he was unlikely to get a thank you of any kind.

Another long pause, as Albel digested that. Then the rustle of straw indicated Albel was settling himself as well, and Cliff relaxed a little. If he was getting comfortable, then he wasn't plotting ways to sneak up on Cliff and run him through. With Albel, he could never be sure just what the bastard's response to anything would be, and he was being especially touchy tonight.

"I suppose you want an explanation," Albel said, his voice quiet in the darkness. His tone was caught somewhere between what Cliff was coming to think of as his 'girl' and 'guy' voices, as if he was trying but was just too tired to keep up the pretence.

"None of my business," Cliff said. That earned him a snort, and he grinned. "Which is not to say I'm not being eaten alive by curiosity, over here. But I'm not gonna push. You say you're a guy, then as far as I'm concerned you're a guy."

"Bullshit!" Albel sounded outraged, as if Cliff's easy acceptance had offended him somehow. "It's not that simple!"

"Don't see why it has to be complicated," Cliff countered. "You think you're the only one in the universe who wasn't comfortable with whatever role society was forcing on them? Anyway, backwater - excuse me, 'underdeveloped' - planets like yours tend to be a lot more hung up on the whole male versus female thing than the rest of humanity. Though, I guess it's not for the usual reasons, huh?" 

"What the hell are the 'usual reasons'?"

"Well, most places as, uh, feudal as your world tend to be stupidly focused on the idea that women shouldn't fight," Cliff explained, trying to remember what little of his history classes he'd bothered to attend. "But obviously that's not the case on Elicoor. I mean, just look at Nel and her girls."

"Shows what you know, maggot." Albel's voice was so tight Cliff could practically hear him grinding his teeth. "Nel is from _Aquaria_. Half the reason we gave for going to war with them was because their women are 'immoral' and 'don't know their place'. Do you know what happens to a Glyphian woman caught with a weapon? She's assumed to be an Aquarian spy, and staked out for the dragons to eat."

"Ouch." Cliff winced, rightfully rebuked. By the time most planets were advanced enough to join the Federation, they were pretty much united in terms of religion and beliefs. It was hard for him to remember that different countries on a world like Elicoor might as well be different planets. "Is that what happened to your arm?"

"No." The response was so immediate and abrupt that Cliff thought that was all he was going to get. Then after a moment, Albel added grudgingly, "This was my own damned fault. I thought if I could pass the Ascension of the Flame and win a dragon, I could prove it was just a stupid prejudice."

Cliff felt a bit like he was navigating a minefield. "It didn't work?"

Albel laughed, the sound acid enough to melt lead. "I was half right. It _is_ a stupid prejudice, but it's the dragons who are prejudiced. The only thing they're interested in doing with human women is eating them - and they can smell the difference."

There didn't seem to be much Cliff could say to that. Not without sounding like he pitied Albel, and he already knew that would be a mistake.

After a moment Albel sighed. "My father gave his life to save mine. The best Dragon Brigade captain Airyglyph has ever had, in exchange for a useless, half-crippled _girl_. It didn't seem like a fair trade, so I swore I would do whatever it took to even the balance."

"And it would have been a crime to waste potential like yours," Cliff said softly. "You were born to be a fighter, anyone can see that."

"Hmph. Don't think knowing I'm a woman means you can get anywhere by flattering me, maggot." Though his words were harsh, Albel sounded pleased despite himself.

"So why not go to Aquaria, if you wanted to be a fighter so bad?" Cliff wanted to know. "Obviously they wouldn't have cared."

"Why didn't you make nice with the Federation?" Albel retorted. "Aquaria was the _enemy_. I may think Glyphians have their heads up their collective asses when it comes to the role of women, but that doesn't make me any less a Glyphian myself. I'd sooner have cut my other arm off than betrayed my country and my father like that."

And once again Cliff had stuck his foot in his mouth. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, wishing there was some kind of warning system for when he was about to sound like an idiot. Especially when he was talking to Albel. 

"So if you could have fought either way and nobody cared, would you still have passed yourself off as a guy?" he asked, curious how deep the issue went. 

"What the hell does that mean?" Albel sounded confused.

"I mean, were you just doing what you had to in order to be able to fight, or did you hate being a girl on principle?" He had a feeling he already knew the answer; Albel was a guy through and through, in just about every way short of his body. Cliff couldn't imagine him actually living as a girl, even a warrior woman like Nel or Mirage.

But Albel surprised him. "I... suppose if it hadn't mattered, I wouldn't have bothered. It's a pain in the ass and I've spent the last ten years waiting for someone to figure it out and have me executed. But what difference does it make? It did matter, and that's all there is to it."

"Yeah, I suppose," Cliff said, struggling to keep his voice level. Inside he was shocked and a little thoughtful. He wondered what Albel had been like as a girl, or what he would be like now if he hadn't been forced to hide himself that way. Certainly he'd been attractive enough earlier tonight, when they'd been trying to get through the gate. "Is Albelene your real name, then?"

"Call me that and I'll cut your tongue out," Albel threatened, voice dropping to a growl again.

"I guess that's a 'yes'," Cliff said, smiling since he knew Albel couldn't see him. "Get some rest, Albel. If we're breaking out of the city in the morning, we're both gonna need our beauty sleep."

* * *

As promised Albel was, if not as good as new, certainly much better in the morning. Being able to wear his gauntlet and his own clothes made him downright cheerful. Since 'cheerful' on Albel consisted mainly of a psychotic smile to go with the murderous gleam in his demonic red eyes, Cliff was a little creeped out. 

"Why do you dress like that if you're trying to hide?" Cliff asked him. In the light of his new knowledge, the fact that Albel was built like a girl seemed glaringly obvious. He'd bound his breasts down somehow, but guys just didn't have waists and hips like that. "Frankly I can't believe I didn't realize before this."

"But you didn't," Albel retorted. "Nobody ever does. Like this, I'm 'eccentric'. If I dressed in uniform like everyone else, the difference would be more noticeable."

"Huh." Cliff tended to think of Albel as being not all that bright, frankly. Largely because of the hot-head's tendency to react to anything and everything by hitting it with a sword. But that logic showed a level of sophistication he hadn't thought Albel was capable of. "You put a lot of thought into this, didn't you?"

Albel glared at him. "I was nearly eaten by a dragon once," he said, flexing his clawed hand for emphasis. "I'm not eager to repeat the experience."

"Why the long hair, then?" Cliff asked, still trying to understand. "I mean, that's probably your biggest giveaway."

Albel glanced down, running his hand over one bound tail. "My father often said how much he loved my hair," he answered, so softly it was almost a mumble. "He said it made me look like my mother." Shaking his head, he looked up and met Cliff's eyes with an open challenge. "So what's your brilliant plan for getting out of the city this time?"

The glint of sarcasm in Albel's eyes told Cliff the other man had taken note of his surprise at Albel's intelligence. Cliff winced, and gave him a smile in return. He supposed he deserved that. "Actually, I was pretty much thinking we'd just go with your plan."

"What? Kill them all and fight our way out?" Albel raised an eyebrow, looking sceptical but not displeased. "What happened to being outnumbered and outgunned?"

"Sometimes the simplest solution is the right one," Cliff admitted, shrugging. "Besides. We damn near ploughed right through them even as handicapped as we were. When you've got both hands and your runeology available, it'll be a spacewalk."

"I may not be dying of wound fever anymore, but I'm still injured. And there will be a lot more of them this time." Albel sounded positively gleeful.

"You complaining?"

"Oh, _hell_ no."

Cliff chuckled. "Let's get the hell off of Dodge, then."

They managed to stick to the alleys for the most part, so the only people staring at them were the beggars and thieves. Cliff wasn't worried about robbers - he and Albel were muscled, well-armed, and moved like the warriors they were. Plus all it took was one look into Albel's eyes and the toughs decided they were more trouble than they were worth.

They reached the gate just before midday. Cliff halted just out of sight of the soldiers to assess the situation. They'd replaced the barricade, and there was a small mob of people shouting and arguing with the soldiers, trying to get out. The guards were everywhere, and they had their weapons out and ready, watching all sides for an attack.

Well, it wouldn't save them. "Shouldn't be too hard," Cliff concluded. "Just try not to..."

Albel charged past him with a fierce battle cry, sword already up and ready. Magic raced ahead of him and took the form of several writhing dragons. The crowd of civilians at the gate screamed and scattered before him.

"...kill any innocents," Cliff finished with a sigh. At least the area was quickly clearing out, and the soldiers looked as terrified of the fading dragons as the civilians. They didn't seem familiar with runeology, which gave Cliff and Albel an advantage.

Activating one of his own runes, Cliff leapt into the fray with a grin that nearly matched Albel's.

This time they made a much better accounting of themselves. Albel laughed gleefully as he slashed and thrust with his sword, pausing every so often to unleash another powerful spell. Cliff revelled in the smack of flesh on flesh and the satisfying crunch of bones beneath his hands and feet. No matter what else he and Albel might have to say about each other, Cliff had to admit they made a powerful fighting combination.

Then they were through the gate, leaving a trail of splinters and broken bodies behind them. The people waiting to enter the city had long since abandoned the road, leaving Cliff and Albel a clear path. Stretching his legs, Cliff pushed himself to his limits, knowing they'd send people on horses after them soon.

Beside him Albel was keeping up, though Cliff could tell it was costing him more than usual. He was far from completely healed, but he pushed himself hard. He snarled breathlessly when he saw Cliff looking at him, and Cliff decided silence was definitely the better part of valour in this case.

In the distance behind him he heard pounding hooves and shouting voices, but the soldiers were much too late. Taking a sharp turn off the road, he crashed through the bushes and into the clearing where the shuttle was hiding, Albel two steps behind him. Cliff grabbed for the remote and quickly deactivated the camouflage cloak, revealing the small craft nestled between two trees. His hand on the control panel activated the lock, and the door irised open to grant them entry.

Once inside the shuttle with the door securely closed behind them, there was nothing the soldiers could do to hurt them. Cliff heaved a sigh of relief as he tossed the bag holding the artefact onto his bunk, where it would be cushioned during takeoff. "Well, you gotta admit, that wasn't boring," he said cheerfully as he entered the cockpit and settled into the pilot's seat.

"That's one way of putting it," Albel muttered sourly from his seat in the co-pilot's spot. He had no idea how to fly the shuttle, of course, but it hadn't been designed with passengers from underdeveloped planets in mind. 

Cliff eyed his companion as he went automatically through the pre-flight checks and warmup. Albel's arms were crossed over his chest and he looked like he wasn't exactly happy, though certainly the fight seemed to have pleased him. Perhaps being cheerful about the whole experience wasn't the best tack Cliff could take, all things considered. Albel had been through a hell of a lot in the last day.

Outside the soldiers had discovered their clearing, and were shouting and waving their swords at the 'metal monster' as their horses reared in fright. Cliff chuckled to himself, and fired a quick round of warning shots into the ground at their feet to get them to back off. Then he punched the engines and the shuttle rose into the air, heading rapidly for the stratosphere.

"I won't tell anyone," he assured the other man, looking at him sidelong again. Sure enough Albel was glaring at him. Big surprise there.

"Damn right you won't, or I'll gut you and tie you up to watch as you rot from the inside out," Albel told him, eyes narrowed.

Cliff laughed. "I just said I wouldn't," he repeated. Male or female, some things about Albel were just plain Albel. "It's none of my business, and none of anybody else's, either. But you know, you could just stay with me and my crew, and nobody would give a rat's ass one way or the other. You could just be yourself, however you wanted to be. I'd be more than happy to have you onboard permanently."

He thought, just maybe, that Albel was tempted. His expression was so shuttered that it was hard to be certain, but there was what Cliff thought might be a touch of longing in his eyes. But he shook his head. "Airyglyph is my home," he said, looking out at the starfield streaking by. "It may not be where I belong, but it's where I want to be."

Cliff couldn't help but smile at that. "Well, the offer's open any time," he said. "Or even if you just want a break."

"I probably wouldn't kill you for asking me to come along again," Albel told him, still not looking at him. "Unless it turns out like _this_."

"I'll do my best to make sure neither of us get captured and tortured in the future," Cliff promised him wryly. "I hadn't exactly been planning on it this time, though."

"Then I guess you'd better pick carefully which jobs you invite me on."

"I guess so." Cliff set the automatic pilot and leaned back in his seat, arms crossed behind his head. He was still trying to assimilate everything he'd learned about Albel and he had a feeling he would be for a while to come, but he was relieved that Albel was willing to come with him again.

Maybe, just maybe, he was finally earning the prickly bastard's trust. Cliff had always wondered what lay beneath the thick shell of emotional armour Albel had created around himself. Fayt had seen beneath it to a certain extent, and despite Cliff's scepticism at the time Albel had risen to meet Fayt's belief in him. Now that he knew the truth, Cliff was even more curious.

Given enough time, maybe he would even get that curiosity satisfied.


End file.
